Stranded With A Dirty-Talking Shifter, page 1
stranded with a dirty-talking shifter
Marooned For A Night
olivia t. turner
Copyright© 2024 by Olivia T. Turner.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including emailing, photocopying, printing, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author. For permission requests, email Olivia@oliviatturner.com
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This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, businesses, companies, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
www.OliviaTTurner.com
Edited by Karen Collins Editing
Cover Design by Lori Jackson
contents
Copyright
About
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
Epilogue
Marooned For A Night
More Shifters!
Audiobooks
Get Obsessed
Follow Me…
I thought I was the queen of dirty talk.
I’ve written it in my books, but have never experienced it in real life.
But fiction becomes reality when Oliver Brooks finds me.
I’m stranded in a torrential rainstorm with nowhere to go.
He says he wants to help me.
He says I’m his mate.
And he says a whole lot of other things that are too dirty to repeat.
This hot bear shifter has the queen of dirty talk blushing.
He has the queen on her knees.
And I’m loving every second of it.
There’s a new king in town.
And I’m stranded with him for the night.
Three new standalone stories by best-selling steamy romance authors, Hope Ford, Olivia T. Turner, and Michele Mills. Get ready to be Marooned for a Night with some hot possessive men!
To Tyson.
The real king of dirty talk.
one
. . .
Layla
The bell over the door chimes happily and my stomach sinks.
She’s not here for me. There’s no way…
The woman shakes her umbrella and smiles at the bookstore owners, Jada and Eleanor.
Come on…
Her eyes dart to me as she unzips her wet raincoat.
My back straightens. I clasp my hands on my table and give her my biggest smile.
Her eyes flit over to my stack of books, then to my custom-printed retractable roll-up banner featuring my bestselling series, then to the pile of Sharpies, then to my desperate face.
That big smile turns into a tight awkward one.
I swallow hard while I will her to come over and secretly beg her not to at the same time.
She drops her eyes to the floor and hurries over to the Travel section.
I let out a low painful sigh as I glance at the clock. 4:17. It’s almost over.
This is so humiliating.
It’s my first bookstore signing, and with the way it’s been going, it’s probably going to be my last.
Jada and Eleanor ordered three hundred copies of my books. Three hundred!
They’re stacked all around me, piled up like a big wall of shame. I haven’t sold one. Not one!
None of my readers came even though I posted it on all my socials and blasted my newsletter so many times until a big chunk of them unsubscribed.
I thought at least a few dozen of them would show up. I was wrong.
I’ve been writing erotica for four years and I have eleven books out. I started strong out of the gate, but my books have been selling less and less lately. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.
The first year, my readers anointed me the queen of dirty talk.
I guess I’ve lost my crown.
Maybe I need some real-world experience.
It’s hard to write dirty-talking males when you’ve never experienced them in real life. When you haven’t experienced anything in real life.
I’m an erotica author who has never had sex. Does that make me a fraud? Does that make my books inauthentic? Is that just pathetic?
All of these horrible thoughts are racing through my mind as I wait for the clock to hit five o’clock so I can go home.
It’s a two-hour drive home through the mountains and the rain is coming down hard. This whole day has sucked balls.
And I have to do it again tomorrow.
The signing is supposed to be a two-day weekend event, but if I have to stay until I sell all these books, it might turn into a two-year event.
Relief, dread, elation, and humiliation all hit me at the same time at five o’clock when Jada locks the door and flips the sign to CLOSED.
She turns around and smiles warmly at me, which makes me feel extra awful. Jada was the one who invited me to come for a signing when I stopped by the bookstore two months ago. She was so nice and friendly. We chatted about books, I told her who I was, and she freaked out. She had read my first series and invited me for a signing.
I was reluctant, but I said yes. She just seemed so excited about it and I guess some of that excitement rubbed off onto me.
Well, the excitement is all gone now.
“Was it okay for you today?” she asks as she comes over.
I swallow hard and nod overly enthusiastic. “It was great!”
Totally not the most professionally humiliating day of my life.
“Too bad about the rain,” she says as she glances at the window. “Rain always keeps the readers away.”
“Yeah,” I say as I feel my cheeks getting hot. It’s nice of her to say, but it only started raining this afternoon and no one came this morning either.
“It’s going to be sunny tomorrow,” she says with an optimistic smile.
“Great!”
I can’t wait to go through all of this again without the weather to blame my failures on.
“Should I leave my table or bring it into the back?” I ask as I get up.
“Oh, just leave it all here,” Jada says as she wanders over to the pile of my books. She picks up the one on top—Smooth Customer.
“I adore this book,” she says as she flips through it with a big smile. “I read it again last night.”
“You did?”
“Yes!” she says, starting to gush. “That kiss in the rain! Oh my god! I read that part about twenty million times. Did that really happen to you?”
I snort out a laugh. ‘Does that look like it happened to me?’ I want to say.
“No,” I say, forcing out a smile. “It’s all fiction.”
Unfortunately.
Everything I write comes from my brain, not from experience.
Hot, dirty-mouthed, muscular men are not in my boring little circle. My circle consists of my cranky old cat Henry, my overly critical mother who does not approve of what I write, my neighbor Jim who always complains about my garbage bin being out too early or too late, and the delivery driver who nods at me while keeping his headphones in even though I try to talk to him every time. Once, I gave him a homemade muffin to be nice. He took it, but I saw him throw it in the garbage bin on his way out. The garbage bin that really should be on the side of my house by now according to my neighbor Jim.
I don’t have hot romantic kisses in the rain, I don’t have strong hands gripping my hips so hard they leave fingerprints on my flesh, and I don’t have luscious lips whispering naughty things in my ear. I have lonely nights with a cup of tea, a cat who doesn’t want to be my roommate, and my very vivid imagination.
At least, I have that.
My imagination is fun and it’s better than nothing, but sometimes I wish I could experience lust, lewdness, and love in real life. I’d like to get my blood pumping and my skin tingling instead of just describing it for some made-up characters.
But more than anything right now, I just want to go home.
I slip my coat on and head for the door. Eleanor is at the cash, giving me a tight smile. She’s not as friendly as Jada.
“Maybe you can post about the signing again tonight?” Eleanor says as I grab the door handle. “Try to get some readers in for tomorrow?”
“Definitely,” I say with an awkward laugh. “I’ll do that as soon as I get home.”
She huffs out a frustrated breath as she turns back to whatever she’s doing.
Well, you didn’t have to order three hundred books, I want to scream at her.
“Are you going to be okay to drive home?” Jada asks as she glances out the window. “It’s coming down hard out there.”
“Oh yeah,” I say with a dismissive wave. “It’s just a little bit of rain.”
It’s not just a little bit of rain. It’s angry, fierce, vicious, apocalyptic rain. It’s coming down like the planet owes it money.
When I’m an hour into my two-hour drive, my knuckles are burning from gripping the steering wheel so tightly. I don’t think I’ve blinked in the past twenty minutes.
My windshield wipers are flying back and forth at top speed, but they’re barely able to push away the buckets of water slammi
This is horribly stressful.
It’s fitting in a way.
A rotten cherry on top of my disastrous day.
Today has already been so bad. It can’t possibly get worse.
Right?
two
. . .
Oliver
“We can stop if you want,” Tara says as she gives me a weary look.
“I’m fine,” I lie. “Who’s turn is it?”
“Mine,” Leo says as he puts down some yellow trains.
We lost power from the rain, so I’m playing Ticket To Ride with my two brothers, Leo and Michael, and Leo’s mate, Tara.
I’m getting my ass kicked, but it’s not my fault. I’m barely able to focus with the way my inner grizzly bear is freaking out.
He’s always been spooked by thunder and lightning. He’s always hated it.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Tara asks with a worried look on her face. “Your hands are shaking.”
I quickly hide them under the table.
It’s just a knee-jerk reaction. I don’t have to hide anything. My brothers know all about my grizzly bear’s irrational fear. They’ve seen it in action over the years.
“How bad is it?” Leo asks.
I shrug. “It’s fine.”
It’s not fine. He’s getting worse as we get older. I’m twenty-seven now, and I don’t want to find out what he’s going to be like when we’re fifty.
He’s pacing around angrily inside, snarling violently as the fierce rain slams into the windows. The trees are shaking outside. The wind is howling.
My grizzly is both terrified and furious at the same time.
And I’m paying the price. I always pay the price.
“At least there’s no thunder and lightning,” Michael says as he picks up a card.
Right on cue, a deep booming crack of thunder rumbles through the log cabin.
I fly up so fast the chair knocks over behind me. My skin tightens over flexed muscles. My jaw clenches. My heart pounds.
“Here we go,” Leo mumbles as he grabs his mate and pulls her back.
“Just breathe,” Michael says as he slowly stands up. “In and out. Relax.”
I can’t breathe. I can’t relax. I have a savage maniac grizzly bear terrorizing me from the inside out.
He thrashes around, shredding and clawing my insides while snarling in my ear.
This fucking bear…
I bend over and cover my ears, forcing out raspy breaths.
He’s livid. He’s deranged. He’s out of control.
It’s just thunder, you fucking pussy. I yell at him.
He snarls back.
Every storm, I go through this shit.
He’s worse than a little kid or a frightened dog. He’s a giant seven-hundred-pound apex predator and he’s terrified of a booming sound. I’ve fucking had it.
The thunder rips through the cabin again. Closer this time.
I explode up as he surges to the surface, desperately trying to claw his way out.
“No,” I grunt through gritted teeth. You’re not fucking coming out!
He roars in fury. The nasty beast twists and wrenches and rushes to the surface.
I flex my whole body and struggle to force him back down. I crash into the table and all the plastic trains scatter off the board. Tara’s glass of wine tips over.
He’s so goddamn strong.
I feel a flash of fur tearing through my skin before I rein him back in.
“Not in here, please,” Leo says as he steps protectively in front of Tara. “We just had the floors redone.”
I force my eyes open and see Tara’s worried face. She’s nervous for me, not about the floors, but I still don’t want to ruin her cabin. She was so excited when they put in hardwood floors last month.
I turn and head for the door.
My legs feel like there’s concrete in them. Every move is hard when my grizzly is raging like this.
Michael rushes over and opens the door for me.
The rain comes slamming into the room, stinging wet. It’s dark out even though it’s only six o’clock in the summer. Those nasty storm clouds are smothering out the sun.
“Are you going to be okay?” my oldest brother asks as I face the storm.
“Same old, same old,” I grunt, putting on a brave face as I force my heavy legs outside. I’m immediately drenched. The rain soaks me to the bone.
“Can we… finish the game without you?” Michael asks as he’s about to close the door.
I turn to him with my chest and shoulders flexed. My eyes are probably glowing golden right now. I can feel my teeth pushing out against my lips. “Yeah,” I grunt.
“Okay, thanks,” he says. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He closes the door, leaving me outside. My grizzly snarls as rain pours down my face.
I glance in the window as I head toward the forest.
Michael and Leo are back at the table, cleaning up the spilled wine and putting the trains back on the board. They put my trains in the box and put my cards back in the pile. Tara is watching me. She gives me a sad wave as she watches me go.
I can’t blame my brothers for acting this way. They’ve been living with this all their lives too. Every lightning storm, my bear goes crazy and flees into the forest. They go on with their lives and I return with the sun.
It’s the same thing every time.
There’s nothing they can do about it. Hell, there’s nothing I can do about it.
It’s not like I can drag my seven-hundred-pound grizzly bear into a therapist’s office and have him talk it out.
We just have to go through it. Every single time.
The rainstorms aren’t usually this bad though.
The wind picks up, whipping the trees into a frenzy. Loud cracks and pops fill the air as large branches snap off trunks and crash to the ground.
The sky lights up in a beautiful haunting blue for a split second. I tense up as I wait for it.
The accompanying boom of thunder hits my ears.
And there’s no more holding my bear back.
He bursts out of my body in an untamed rage.
I’m pulled inside as he explodes out, roaring viciously at the world.
Another crash of thunder and he sprints into the forest.
At least, I’m dry now.
I’m watching from inside as he tears through the forest with his heart racing and his mind spinning.
His eyes are bulging. His nostrils are flaring. He stops every few feet and whips his head around with his whole body trembling.
Thunder cracks again. He explodes forward and takes down a small tree when he accidentally sprints into it.
As annoying and frustrating as my grizzly bear is, I do feel bad for him.
It’s hard to feel this level of terror and not feel bad.
Maybe one day, he’ll calm down.
Maybe one day, he’ll lose this sharp edge.
Thunder explodes over the forest once again. He thrusts his head into the air—rain slamming down on his face—and lets out a terrified rage-filled roar.
I sigh as I watch helplessly from inside.
Maybe one day this will all be over.
But not today…
three
. . .
Layla
“You like that, you nasty-little slut?” Antoine growls as he grips a fistful of my hair. I moan like his dirty whore as he drags the thick head of his cock over my lips. “You’re going to swallow all of my hot cum. Every. Fucking. Drop.”
My soaked pussy aches as I slip my tongue out and taste him. He tastes like—
“Oh no,” I whimper as I turn my audiobook off. I put it on about twenty minutes ago to help calm me down, but it’s not really working.
It’s hard to stay calm when the rain is coming down on my windshield with the force of a pressure washer.
I’m deep in the mountains now. I don’t see anything but trees, dark clouds, and rain. This is not good.
My stupid GPS said this route would save me seventeen minutes, although it failed to mention that I’d be traveling through the goddamn mountains on a muddy road instead of on the concrete highway surrounded by civilization.
“Ah!” I scream when a deafening crack of lightning erupts over my head.
